Supernatural: The Musical
by Colored Pencil Klepto
Summary: I was reading this discussion group, and these     s suggested a musical episode. Thus this was born. Guess that makes it not mine. Summary: The boys receive an interesting curse. Mild language/sexual references. Rated T. WARNING: I REALLY CAN'T RHYME.


_Author's note: the first_

_So this is my first published fanfic, although I am working on an old one, entitled _Far Away. _It's a Death Note fic. Sooo… Basically I was reading a discussion group and they said there should be a singing episode. Thus this was born._

_Disclaimer: It's not mine. I know, I'm sad too. I want puppy. LeLuna, however, is. She amuses me._

* * *

**Supernatural:**

**The Musical**

"Okay, here's a possible case. In this one part of Cornwall, Connecticut, people have been acting really strange."

"Strange how? Like demonic possession?" Dean's words were barely audible around the burger in his mouth.

"No, just…strange." Sam flipped through the printouts of the local newspaper. "This one woman, and I quote, '…garbed only in a large sheet ran through the streets shouting about burning cows.'"

"Now that's something I'd like to see."

"An _old_ woman, Dean."

"Oh. Damn."

"Then there was a man who, and again I quote, '…composted his prize petunias he had been growing for a year to enter into the state fair claiming that they were 'too perfect to be seen.' He also complained that the maple tree in his yard was staring at him.' What do you think, does this sound like our kind of thing?"

"Well it is weird, I'll give you that. But don't you think maybe they've just gone crazy? Mushrooms-in-the-water-supply crazy, but still."

"I'm thinking the trickster again."

"But this isn't his style. Are any of the people dicks, like last time?" Sam shook his head, and leafed through all the papers again.

"No," he said. "They're all just normal people."

"Until now." Sam rolled his eyes.

"_Obviously_, Dean."

"Well we're not that far away. Might as well check it out."

Once Dean had finished his all-important burger, they headed out to the Impala. As Dean drove East, Sam researched.

"Okay, so there've been eight cases spread out over the last month."

"Any connection between the victims?"

"Besides living in the same area…no."

"Okay, so maybe the place they live has something to do with this. Check out its history." About an hour later, Sam sighed and looked up from his computer.

"Well I checked the history…"

"So?" Sam shrugged.

"Nothing. It's spotless. No wars, no burial grounds, just…nothing."

"…Are you _sure_ it's not a possession?"

"Pretty sure. The way these people described it, it sounds nothing like possession. They said they just…felt like it."

"They just _felt like it_?"

"That's what they said."

"All right…witches?"

"No one's been having unusually good luck like last time."

"Maybe this coven's smarter. Maybe they're covering their tracks better." Sam sighed.

"Yeah, maybe."

Dean cranked up the mullet-head rock, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

oOo

The next morning they talked to all the neighbors, friends, and family of the victims. As Sam's preliminary research had shown, the victims had all been normal people with no connections to each other whatsoever. They'd known each other (after all, in a town this small everyone knew each other) but other than that, they were all very different.

They walked around the whole town, looking for anything that pointed to witches or anything else. Dean decided that maybe a local barmaid would have some information. Sam remarked that she would surely have some information, but it might not be something pertaining to the investigation.

The local bar was called Bonny's Beehive.

"Talk about a lame name," Dean muttered.

"Well what else do you expect in a town like this?" Dean nodded. This was true; a town this hick and tiny and behind the times was bound to have lame names for everything.

After getting his beer, Dean surveyed the bar, most likely for hot women. There was only one who was at all worth his oh-so-precious time. She was sitting at the far end of the bar, hunched over a glass of something presumably alcoholic in nature. She had a mane of curly honey-blond hair, and large green eyes.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean said. "I have to go get to know that beautiful young woman over there."

"Good luck." Sam rolled his eyes. He turned back to his computer, and tried to think of what else this could possibly be.

oOo

The next morning, Dean opened his bleary eyes to see that Sam was already up.

"Dean, I think I may have found it!" Sam exclaimed.

"Wha?" Dean managed. At his current level of consciousness, this was quite the feat.

"Why this is happening. This started about a month ago, right?" He did not wait for a response. "So I searched for things that happened about a month ago, and this is what I found." He put the computer on the nightstand between the two tables and turned it to Dean. "Just before this began, this woman, umm…LeLuna Williams, a writer moved here for the peace and quiet of the country." Sam realized that Dean was barely paying attention. "Dean, what?"

"Sonofa…" Dean had woken up like he'd had a bucket of ice water dumped on his head.

"_What_?" Dean pointed to the picture of LeLuna.

"Does she look familiar to you?"

"No, why?"

"Well she does to me." Sam gave him a _go on_ sort of look. "She's the girl I was hitting on last night at the bar."

"Well did you get her number?"

"Of _course_ I did Sammy."

oOo

The phone rang.

"LeLuna? It's Dean from the bar."

"_Dean_, nice to _hear_ from you."

"Um, yeah. Look, I was wondering if you would like to be interviewed for an article I'm writing about all the weird crap happening in this town."

"I'd _love_ to. You know _I_ write _too_."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh. I write _novels_ for _adults_, mostly. _That's_ why I came _here_, for _peace_ and _quiet_."

"Doesn't seem like you're getting much, huh?"

"Not at _all_. I _swear_, the _people_ in this _town_ are _crazy_, the whole _lot_ of them."

"Well where should we meet to talk about it?"

"Well, _how_ _about_ we _meet_ in front of _Bonny's_."

"The bar?"

"Yep!"

oOo

"So are you gonna go alone?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well be careful. We have no clue what she is." Dean shot Sam a look.

"Dude, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but she could be, well, I don't even know. Be prepared, ok?"

"Of course I'll be, Sam."

Dean walked towards the bar. Despite his reassurances (if that was what you could call them) to Sam, he was anxious. He really hoped she wasn't a witch. He hated witches. Always spewing their body liquids everywhere. It was creepy. Hell, it was downright unsanitary.

"_Dean_, there you _are_. I was getting _worried_!"

"I decided to walk here."

"Oh, all _right_ then!" LeLuna giggled.

"So this started a little while after you moved here?"

"_Yes_, that's what _everyone_ says." LeLuna hung on to Dean's arm, in a disturbingly shellfish-like manner. Y'know, clingy and soggy.

"Have you seen anything like this before?"

"_Well_, to _tell_ you the _truth_…"

"You have?"

"_Yes_… It's happened _before_. Everywhere I go, people _act_ like this. It's so _scary_!"

"Well maybe I can help. Why do you think this happened?"

"_Well_ it _started_ a _few_ days after I _broke_ up with my _boyfriend_ when I was _15_…"

"Maybe he has something to do with this. Where is he now?"

"6 feet _under_. He _slit_ his _wrists_ after I ended our _relationship_. His name was Robert Thomas." Dean was surprised at how little she seemed to care. He steered the conversation to lighter topics, and wondered if a ghost was haunting this poor girl, and causing mayhem wherever she went.

oOo

Sam looked up from his precious laptop.

"LeLuna Williams used to live in New York City. In the year she was 15, _no_ teenage boys named Robert Thomas slit their wrists."

"So she's lying?"

"Looks like."

"Well, if she's lying, then she must be trying to mislead us, which means she's up to something."

"That's pretty obvious, Dean."

"But then what's she up to?"

"Well, the only thing we've _got_ so far is that she's a witch."

"Well if she is, then where's her coven?"

"I don't know if she actually has one."

"What do you mean?" Dean was confused, a frequent occurrence.

"Well, I don't know if it's necessary for a witch to have a coven."

"It isn't?" Dean was even more confused.

"I don't see why it would be." Sam was also a little perplexed, but he, unlike Dean, had a semblance of a solution. "Maybe we should call Bobby."

oOo

The next day, Bobby showed up at the door. The boys told him everything they knew. He cursed.

"Why didn't you boys call me sooner?" Sam and Dean glanced at each other. Sam ventured to ask a question.

"Er… Did we need to?"

"You idjits! I know exactly who, no more like what you've taken on, and let me tell you you're screwed to hell boys." Dean cleared his throat. "Not literally," Bobby amended. Hell was a sensitive subject with Dean.

"So…what is she?" Sam asked.

"She's a trickster. Sort of." Dean picked up on the obvious.

"Sort of?"

"She's half trickster." The boys began to talk, but Bobby cut them off. "She has no outward signs of being a trickster, such as a huge sweet tooth. Luckily, her powers are also lesser. She causes chaos and mayhem wherever she goes, but she can't create things out of thin air. In fact, she is known as Eris, the Greek goddess of discord. But she can only control it a little." Dean butted in.

"So then why's she so dangerous? If she can't control—" Bobby interrupted.

"Because she has the art of changing shape down better than any full-blood trickster." The boys were silent, Sam reliving when he'd cornered the trickster after way too many Tuesdays, and the trickster had changed shape.

"So she could be anyone?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she could even be me. She's probably long gone by now, you idjits!"

"How can we find her?" Dean asked, already focused on the hunt.

"We can't. There is no way to tell that it's her, out of all the people in this town."

"There's gotta be some way, Bobby."

"**Not as far as I know.**

**I don't know everything though.**

**Give up—it's hopeless, it's a lost cause.**

**We'd best escape from LeLuna's claws."** Bobby sang out. He clapped his hands over his mouth, and muttered, "What the hell?" Dean was practically rolling on the ground laughing.

"Sing for us, Singer, sing!" Sam couldn't help but grin, but he decided to be a tad more helpful.

"LeLuna probably did this. After seeing what else she's done, it's kind of her style. Maybe we can find a way to fix it, but for now we should probably get outta here." They both agreed, Bobby by nodding his head.

They quickly grabbed their stuff, and snuck out to the Impala. Dean looked at it fondly and…

"**I have only one love, and that is my car.**

**She is precious to me, each bump and each jar.**

**She is my home.**

**When I'm on the roam.**

**She will take me near and she will take me far." **Sam looked at him.

"Seriously, dude? A limerick?" Dean glared. Sam laughed. "Looks like I'm the lucky one." Sam looked very proud of this fact, and more than a little smug.

"**I must laugh at you.**

**You're pathetic, 'tis true.**

**Yet this I will rue,**

**For I'm singing too!" **Dean and Bobby cracked up, and wisely did not try to say anything.

oOo

"**I will call all my friends.**

**Maybe they can make amends,**

**To this horrible curse.**

**Or they might make it worse!" **Bobby had a pretty bad singing voice, although Sam's was certainly much worse.

"**When you ask for some aid,**

**Let your singing voice fade.**

**They will not listen to you**

**If you're singing, it's true**

**They'll wonder what game you've played." **Dean's falsetto was interesting, to say the least. Sam was staying quiet. He had managed to ask where they were going without singing (and been answered by a singing Bobby that they were going to the next town over) but then clammed up again. It was obvious why. Out of all of them, his singing voice was, truly, the worst one.

Bobby called all his friends, friendly acquaintances, contacts, and even enemies. No one had any idea what to do, although they were all very amused by Bobby's singing, and, predictably, quite a few "Singer" jokes ensued.

"**Maybe you should call Ellen?**

**She knows as many people as you, times ten.**

**If anyone can help us, she can.**

**And how 'bout we write notes, gimme that pen." **Sam's idea was heartily agreed to with nods, and they began to pass notes to each other instead. Bobby called Ellen, who called all of her contacts, friends, etc. She called back a few hours later with bad news.

"Sorry boys, but no one has a clue about how to deal with this. I'm afraid I can't help you." Just then, Sam's cell phone rang.

"**Umm…hello?**

**Are you someone I know?"**

"Boy did that trickster girl get you good," a familiar voice said.

"**Who are you?**

**And how do you know that's true?"**

"It's Missouri, Sam." Sam frowned.

"Missouri?" He managed not to sing that.

"Yes. I know how to cure you boys, if you're willing to come down to Lawrence." Sam wrote a note to the other two, and they nodded.

"Yes." Again, he didn't sing. Thank goodness.

"Alright then, I'll be expecting you."

oOo

Two slow, tiring, boring, mostly silent, and LONG days later, they pulled to a halt in front of Missouri's house. She came to the door before they'd even got out of the car.

"I don't need to be psychic to know you're here, that car of yours is so loud." Dean glared but was, of course, silent. "Well come in, come in. We don't have all day, you know." With that, she walked into the house.

Dean noticed that there was a spoon tucked into the back of her waistband. He tapped her on the arm, and thought very clearly, _"Why is there a spoon in your pants?"_

"After that little escapade with you boys, I decided that carrying a weapon might be a good idea."

"_A spoon?"_

In response, Missouri cracked him over the head with the spoon. Hard. Dean's eyes watered.

"_Effective…" _ Sam thought.

Bobby smirked.

"_I think I'm in love…"_

Missouri rounded on him. "Don't be getting' any ideas boy. You're not my type."

Bobby glared. "_I was joking."_

Missouri sat them down at two sofas in her living room, then walked into the kitchen. She came back with a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. Dean immediately grabbed for one only to be repelled by the great Spoon of Doom.

"Wash your hands, boy." Dean complied, going into the bathroom and doing a sloppy job. When he came out of the bathroom, Sam and Bobby were waiting.

"**That woman is mean.**

**She insists we are clean.**

**And she wields a scary spoon**

**I'm doomed." **Bobby shut his mouth quickly.

"**I think you're in love,**

**Struck by an arrow from above.**

**You know you like her—**

**Stop being such a cur.**

**She's what your dreams are made of."** Dean was smirking.

"I can hear you, you know!!!"

Sam's eyes widened, and he instinctively ducked. "Spoon!" he exclaimed. He escaped. Dean and Bobby were less fortunate.

Once that little fiasco was settled, they sat back down and ate the cookies. They (the cookies, certainly not our darling boys) were very good.

"_How can you cure us?"_ thought Bobby.

"Well, it's pretty easy to cure you."

"_Spit it out"._

"Dean! Learn some patience, boy!" Another spoon thwack. "As I was saying, it's very easy. You just have to ask her to get rid of it."

"_What?!?!?!" _thought all three men.

Sam regained his composure first. _"How could we ask her? We don't even know where she is or what she looks like."_

"Yes we do know what she looks like and where she is."

Another simultaneous what.

"She's in my spare room and she looks like how she did when you first met her."

This caused quite a bit of uproar, and Dean charging towards the spare room, just as LeLuna stepped out.

"Well hello again, Dean," she said, without her previous girliness.

He spluttered, then thought at Missouri _"Can you translate for us?"_ She nodded. After listening to all of them, she said, "Dean wants to know why you cursed them, Sam wants to know if you can get rid of it (poor boy, his singing voice is horrible), and Bobby wants to know how I got you here." Sam glared at the comment on his singing voice.

"Because I didn't want them to hunt me down—I wanted to keep them occupied, of course I can, you should answer that."

"Well to answer Bobby, I was polite and simply asked her."

"_Will you get rid of the singing curse?"_ thought Dean. Missouri translated.

"I don't know, Dean, you have a very nice singing voice. I might keep you in a little cage like a canary."

Dean couldn't help but think, _"Kinky…"_

This earned another eye-watering thwack on the head, courtesy of the Spoon of Doom.

"What did he say?" asked LeLuna.

"Girl, you do not want to know."

"That bad?"

"Yeah."

Sam cleared his throat.

LeLuna sighed. "What'll you do in return for me lifting the curse?"

Sam looked at Missouri. _"Ask if spreading the word not to hunt her would work?"_

"Sam says they could spread the word to not hunt you."

Dean shook his head violently. _"We should also make her promise not to hurt people with her pranks."_

"Dean says you should promise not to hurt people with your pranks."

LeLuna scowled. "What if I promise not to injure anyone fatally? Say… a broken bone being the worst?"

Bobby sighed. _"I think that may be the best deal we'll get."_ Missouri translated.

Sam and Dean nodded. LeLuna snapped her fingers. "Alright," she said, "say something."

Dean turned to Sam.

"Dude, your singing voice sucks."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Falsetto."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

LeLuna clapped her hands, and everyone jumped. "Well, it appears to have worked. I'll be off now." She disappeared.

"I never want to hear another Singer joke," groaned Bobby.

"Well, you boys better be off. I've got a reading at three."

"Um, right," said Sam. "C'mon guys."

"Thanks, Missouri," Dean muttered. "Don't kill anyone with that spoon."

"And, um, if you ever need help with something supernatural you can call me," mumbled a red-faced Bobby.

With that, everyone got into the car. They dropped Bobby off at his house, then continued on to the part of Cornwall LeLuna had made crazy. Everything was normal. They started to look for a new case.

And then the tap dancing started.

* * *

_Soooo… like it? Love it? Hate it? Just press the button. C'mon, you know you want to~~~_


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